


A Coat

by Darkhorse



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Object fascination, Other, sort of personification
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-28
Updated: 2013-08-28
Packaged: 2017-12-24 23:11:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/945793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkhorse/pseuds/Darkhorse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Javert, and his coat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Coat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Chrissy24601](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chrissy24601/gifts).



He makes sure his stitches are small and neat as he mends, for the same reason he took an hour choosing the thread in the shop this morning. The damage and the mend, must be invisible to even the scrutinering eye of the prefect. He made the last stitch and bit off the spare thread, giving the coat a possesive pat where it lay across his knee. The elbow points were going shiny, he'd have to bootblack the ouside and put a pad in the sleeve soon. Some might say that it would simply be easier to buy a new coat than go to all the required fuss. But they would never, could never, understand.

All through the final years at Toulon, all through his exams, he'd scrimped and saved, every scrap of coin he could. And when the result had come out, before he even knew his posting, he'd gone and bought his uniform. Not the almost calf-length boots, which he planned to avoid because they pinched. Not his now infamous top hat... He had not been an officer level then, was not worthy to wear such.

No, to him, even now, his uniform consisted of his greatcoat. Hat, boots, even nightstick, could be left behind. As long as he had his coat he was an Inspector of the law.

The coat, he was certain, had saved his life several times, twice keeping cold out when he'd been marooned on an ouskirt patrol with no shelter, once almost certainly snagging a bayonet hilt in it's folds long enough for him to move away and the weilder be brought down by his collegues. The coat had looked after him since he had owned it, and that was why he cursed when he stood too close to yet another stove, why he darned with such care. Superstion or not, the coat was a talisman, which protected him from harm. Even now, planning to join the rebels undercover, he would take his coat, disguise it as a castoff. With it he would live to see the rebellion fall, and the law restored to promenance in men's minds. They would suceed

And he'd never stand in front of stoves again, he promised with a pat. Not ever in his life.

**Author's Note:**

> Based off a god string on tumblr.
> 
> Written on my phone with no spell check so please point out errors


End file.
